I have decided to post this chapter today - as it is already finished – but I am still going to update on Sunday, too.

Someone asked me if there will be more intense moments between Kim and Hank or if it will only be hints. Yes, there will be such moments. Several of these moments, but I don't know if they will be always like you guys think they will be. And please, no matter what you think of the ending of this chapter - wait and see what develops from this in the coming chapters.

Chapter 12

Over the next few days, Kim tried to avoid a situation like the one at Hank's house. Well, she tried not to be all alone with him. But her thoughts kept wandering back. To that moment in his kitchen. When they had both thrown all reason overboard. When they had kissed as if there was no tomorrow. As if they had never done anything else than that, kissing.

Kim had retreated to the locker room at the precinct. She needed a moment to herself. Kim needed a moment to sort out the chaos in her head. All the turmoil inside that she had been feeling since that one night. She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. She hated it. She hated that she couldn't talk to anyone about it. Other than maybe Jay, who knew about it. About what had happened between Hank and her that one night. But did Jay really want to hear every detail about how she had had sex with her sergeant? Hear how Hank had kissed her, kissed his way down her stomach, pleasured her, with his mouth? No!

"Are you okay?" a voice broke through her thoughts.

Kim opened her eyes and looked at him. Hank. He was standing in the doorway of the locker room. Looked at her questioningly. And something else was in his gaze.

"I should be asking you that," she replied, "How are you doing?"

Kim worried that the current development of their case, their failure to find Al's killer, was plunging him even further into darkness. And that she wouldn't be able to save him. I mean, that someday the moment might come when she would lose him to darkness for good.

Instead of an answer, he walked up to Kim and sat down next to her on the bench in front of the lockers.

"I hate it. That we can't get him, that he keeps getting away from us. I hate that I feel like this, so incompetent and-" Hank hesitated, but he knew he could be honest. That he could tell the truth to her. And only to her, Kim didn't judge him for his weakness, "I feel like I fucked up. That I let Al down. And you know, it's all my fault."

Kim put her hand on his thigh. Stroked along it. She searched for the right words.

"We find him, I know that, then you put the cuffs on him. I know you'll read him his rights. You'll be the one to arrest him," she promised Hank.

Hank put his hand on hers, stopping any further movement of her hand.

"Kim, that-", Hank wanted to talk to her about the night in his house. Ever since he had woken up alone in his bed that morning, ever since, he had wanted to talk to Kim about it. To talk about the moment when he hadn't been able to control himself. About the moment when she hadn't stopped him. It had been the first time. And it should have been . . . . Well, it wouldn't be a good idea, Kim and him. No matter how good it had felt.

"I know," Kim nodded. She knew what he was trying to tell her, "Hank, I know what we did. Why we did it, too. And I also know it won't happen again."

It may not have been what Hank expected to hear. But Kim was right. It wasn't going to happen again. But in that moment, he'd forgotten all about it. All the self-doubt, the nightmares that plagued him, his guilt. He had forgotten everything. Focused solely on the woman in his arms. This had been exactly what he had needed at that moment. KIM had been exactly what he had needed and THAT night with her.

" C'mon," Kim said then and got up from the bench. She turned and held out her hand to Hank. He grabbed her hand and let her pull him up off the bench.

Together, the two walked back into the bullpen. Kim immediately felt Jay's gaze. She felt him looking over at Hank and her. However, she didn't want to look at him. Kim didn't want to see Jay's gaze. She knew how he felt about it. About Hank and her. Yet there was no such thing. There was no Hank and her. Never had been. There had only been that one moment of weakness.

And they repressed that moment. Successfully.

For the next few days, anyway. And eventually it felt like it used to be between them. Before, that was prior to the night they had slept together. In the past, those were the days when she made sure that he ate enough, that he allowed himself to take time off and that he didn't lose control over himself and his anger.

It was a quiet evening, Hank sat in his office hunched over a stack of files. A knock on the open office door made him look up from his work.

"Dinner?" Kim asked, holding up a bag of take-out.

"Kim-"

"It's chicken lo mein," she explained, as if those words alone would change his mind. Oh, and they did.

"Do you have fortune cookies in that bag, too?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer. Fortune cookies were somehow part of any of their evenings together. So were a few other things. Briefly Hank had to smile as he thought of the evenings they had spent together. Yes, he had missed that.

And so, a moment later, the two sat on the sofa in the breakroom. Each of them had a box of take-out in their hands. It felt a bit like the old days. It felt like the evenings they had spent at Kim's apartment. You know, with wine, take-out, and good conversation. Well, it was almost the same now. The only thing missing was the wine.

"That was really good, it really was," Hank said then.

"Yes, it was quite good. But you should try it when I make it myself. I mean the chicken lo mein," Kim said. And unknowingly, she had just invited him to dinner. Had she invited him to dinner that she would cook for him.

Surprised, he looked at her. Well, had he heard right? Obviously he had, because Kim's next words left no doubt about it.

"Tomorrow night?" suggested Kim, waiting for an answer from Hank.

Still, he didn't get to answer, because the ringing of a phone interrupted that moment. The call that had interrupted that moment, that had robbed Hank of the opportunity to respond to Kim's invitation, was a call informing Hank of a new crime scene, a new victim. The criminal had struck again.

Hank and the team met at the scene a short time later.

"The victim's name is Amelia Sharpe, a nurse. She was on her way home," Hailey explained as Kim and Hank approached her.

"It was the same guy," Jay commented, making a hand gesture toward the body, which the coroner had already covered with a sheet.

Hank nodded. It was something he'd been dreading. From the moment his phone had rung, he had feared that it was about a new victim of the guy they were looking for so fiercely. The one who had already killed several women. Yes, he had been right. Once again, there was a new victim. And the guy was still on the loose. They hadn't caught him yet. He hadn't caught him yet. He had failed. Again.

Hank clenched his hands into fists. He felt it again. That anger and hatred for himself. He had failed to protect another person. He was responsible for the death of another person. Him and him alone. Once again.

Only in passing did Hank notice what was happening around him. And then suddenly he was back in his car, Kim next to him in the passenger seat. He drove her home.

At the red light, the car stopped.

"He grabbed another woman. There's another victim and I haven't been able to stop him. Damn," Hank angrily pounded his fist on the steering wheel. Actually, they weren't fast enough. The criminal was always one step ahead of them. And they hadn't been able to catch Al's killer yet either. He was simply incompetent to catch a murderer!

His anger threatened to overwhelm him, like a wave that wanted to pull him back into the ocean. His emotions were out of control. I mean, he was out of control. Hank had a hard time forming a clear thought. The same words kept circling around in his head - It's my fault.

Kim hesitated only briefly.

"Pull over," was all she said. She didn't want him to keep driving. Not when he had so much anger in him. Not when he could possibly lose control of himself.

"What?"

" Pull over over there," she repeated her request, although, it wasn't a request. More like an order. And he complied.

Wordlessly, the two sat side by side in the car. Hank's hands clutched the steering wheel. He stared straight ahead. Kim reached out and put her hand on his upper arm.

"Hank, you need to calm down, please."

"Don't you understand what this means, the latest victim. It means I failed. I failed to protect another woman."

Kim hesitated. Not knowing what to say to him, it seemed to her that she had no idea what to say. I mean, what did one say to a man who believed he carried the guilt of the entire city on his shoulders? What did one say to a man who believed he was responsible for all the suffering in Chicago?

"I want to forget it. I want to feel something other than this anger. I want," Hank broke off.

"What do you want? Hank, what can I do? What can I do to make it easier for you? To make you stop feeling guilty, because you're not. You're not to blame," Kim's hand stroked his arm slowly, soothingly.

Instead of answering, he turned to face her. Hank just looked at her for a moment. Silence reigned between them. And before Kim realized what was happening, she felt his lips on hers. But nothing about this kiss was tender, gentle. It was almost aggressive, painful, brutal. It felt as if Hank had put his pain, his anger, his desperation into the kiss. Hank had grabbed her by both upper arms, his fingers wrapped painfully around her arms, and most likely Kim would be able to see bruises on her skin tomorrow. But Kim felt no pain. Not at that moment. She felt him pushing her back into the seat, leaning in toward her. The kiss grew more intense. Kim felt one of his hands pull away from her arm. Then his hand slipped under her shirt and she could feel his fingers right on her skin.

For a moment, Kim wasn't sure how to react, but as if on its own, her hand had settled on his back, her fingers digging into his shirt and pulling him closer. But still, should she push him away or let the kiss happen? Should she let it all happen? Should Kim allow what might yet happen here? For a moment longer she allowed the kiss and the touch of his hand that was now splayed on her breast, touching her, making her nipple harden, and then she pushed him away.

"'Drive me home,'" she begged in a trembling voice. It was hard for her to believe what Hank had done there. How he had kissed her. Touched her.

"Kim, I'm, I'm sorry, I don't know what-" at that moment Hank realized what he had done, what almost happened here in his car.

"Just drive me home, please," she repeated.